Dead Alchemy
by Rhiannon A. Christy
Summary: Death had always been seen as the final adventure; that place where one could go but never return. But there were those that understood that if one could die, one could be reborn. Sixteen years after the final battle Hermione learns that this rebirth comes at a price, and she isn't sure if it is one she could live with.
1. Prologue: All Follow This

Hermione sat still atop her bed, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Around her she could hear the faint breathing of Ginny as she slept on in her own bed. Wind rattled against the windows, whistling through the cracks in ominous notes that sent shivers up and down Hermione's spine.

She hated it here in No.12, more so even at night. She found that she could hardly sleep, it seemed as though the whole house were evil. It was silly, she knew that, but it didn't stop the chills from overtaking her when the lights were out. She had tried to explain it to Ginny, but the girl just shrugged it off as being normal for an old house. She knew better than to even mention it to Ron, he would suggest having her head checked. So, all she could do was try and ignore the feeling.

The walls cracked and creaked, little pattering of mouse feet could be heard scurrying in every corner. When a large squeal came from inside the wall behind her she leapt to her feet. That was quite enough, she thought, perhaps a cup of tea and a book would help.

This wasn't the first time she had fled the room since arriving there. Most nights she sought solace within the library. There she could curl up with a book and hide within its pages. It was a habit left over from early childhood, when she feared monsters under the bed. Her father had told her that monsters were afraid of books, because within them held all the imagination and hope of mankind. So as long as she read and had a book at hand they would stay away.

She was old enough now to understand that monsters, true monsters, couldn't be frightened away with books. At least not the ones that hunted them. Still, it was a piece of comfort and home that she could hold onto.

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, she headed for the library. She was about to open the door when voices reached her ears. She held still as she recognized the familiar voices of Professor Lupin and Sirius Black. They spoke in tones so deceptively calm one could almost miss the tension coloring their voices. She could barely make out the words. But she was sure she had heard 'death', 'war', and 'Harry.' It shouldn't have surprised her, they all knew that the war was gaining speed and before they knew it their world would be changed. And yet, she felt a stone lodge in her throat to hear the older men speaking of such things in regard to her friend.

"Hermione, you can come in if you like."

The young witch in question squeaked at the loudness of Professor Lupin's voice. He hadn't yelled but compared to the hushed tones of before he might as well have.

Smiling guiltily, Hermione slipped into the room. Looking at the two men, relaxed in chairs by the fire, she was suddenly aware of the state she was in. Hair little better than a rat's nest, oversized pajamas, and bare feet. She realized she probably looked very much like a scared little child.

"Sit down, we won't bite." Sirius smiled ear to ear, tipping his head towards his friend. "Well he might."

"Sirius, don't scare the girl." Lupin pointed to the couch with a gentle wave. His mannerisms much the same as she remembered them from only a couple of years ago. He had held the same calm, quiet demeanor in the classroom. Now, as it had then, it prompted her to comply. Unlike when he was her professor, he gave her a cheeky smile and wink as he sipped on his whisky. "I only bite when asked."

Hermione swallowed nervously, feeling even more the child at the blush that rose in her cheeks. Like any girl her age, she could see the appeal of an older man. Even if she had no plans on acting on it. More than once she had found conversations with Ginny turning to the two men. They both agreed that there was something wickedly handsome about them… and dangerous.

Sirius had taken to flirting with everyone who came in or out of the house. It had been amusing to see the bright red blush covering Mrs. Weasley's face one night when he had plucked her away from the range to dance her around the kitchen. Professor Lupin had gotten into the act as well, though he usually kept it to a minimum. She guessed he must have had quite a few glasses of whisky to loosen his tongue so.

She cleared her throat when they laughed, and willed the blush heating her face to diminish. For a while she just sat there, watching as the two sipped at their drinks in silence. The light from the fire flickered across their faces, casting harsh shadows over Sirius, and illuminating the deep scars along Professor Lupin. All thoughts of flirting and handsome men left her mind, to be replaced with the knowledge that she was sitting with two weary old soldiers. These men had lived through one war already and were awaiting the next one.

The Professor adjusting himself more comfortably in his chair brought her attention to a small black book laid atop his lap. It looked old, the spine cracked one to many times until it was barely able to hold the pages together. Curiosity overtook her, and she sat straighter in her seat.

"What are you reading, Professor?"

Eyes flashed from the fire to her, surprise echoing in them. They had been so silent, perhaps he had forgotten she was even there. He cleared his throat and uncrossed his legs, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees. The small book was clutched between his hands, one set of fingers tapping against the worn cover. Sirius as well seemed to lose his ease, tension tightening up his spine.

"I guess you could say it is sort of an attempt at grief therapy for the magical world." Professor Lupin stopped fiddling with the book and handed it over to her. She took it with shaking hands, a gasp of shock escaping at the strangely cold cover.

Her fingers played over the raised image of a black rose, her stomach churning at the skull that had been lovingly fashioned within the petals. Though no snake was present, she couldn't get over how much the image reminded her of the Dark Mark.

"Jareth Johannsson was a brilliant wizard, if not a little eccentric. He was ahead of his time even in the muggle world when it came to understanding the mind. Much of the mind magic we use today is based on his work." It was obvious that the Professor was in his element, the tension had left his shoulders and he was once again relaxed in his chair.

Not wishing to interrupt him, at least not yet, Hermione simply flicked through the book as he talked.

"Though many of his ideas have been disproved, he helped move the Wizarding World forward."

"Not that many of the old families actually listened to him, with him being a muggleborn." Sirius sneered before downing the last drop of his whisky. He had never shied away when it came to voicing his hatred of pureblood culture.

"Yes, unfortunately his work was discredited by pureblood society almost as soon as it was published. Not that it deterred him completely. He wrote one other book on the subject of death, though no one seems to know where to find a copy." Professor Lupin had seemed to hesitate when speaking of the other book but smiled when he tipped his head towards the one in Hermione's hands.

"That book is a bit out of date now, but still relevant I think."

Hermione's fingers traced over the cover again and again without her permission. There was something about it, something cold and dark that seemed wrong in regard to the subject professed to be within. Perhaps it did simply contain information on grief therapy, but she figured something much darker lay at its core.

"It seems a strange subject for this time of night." Hermione forced her fingers to stop their exploring when she noticed the look that the two men shared. Reluctantly, she handed the book back to the professor.

"Or a prudent one." The professor sighed, setting the book aside so his attention was fully on the witch before him. "Molly may refuse to see it, but you and the others are old enough to understand what is going on around you. And whether anyone likes it or not, you are in the middle of it all."

He stood from his chair, his long legs taking him to the fire. For a moment he remained silent, just standing there. Soon he looked back around, his eyes piercing Hermione where she sat.

"War is coming, it is inevitable. And you, Harry, and Ron are wrapped up in this mess. We all are really. It is… it is like last time, only I fear it may be bloodier and deadlier than before."

"We weren't prepared you see." Sirius joined in, his eyes on her and tracking his friend's movements at the same time. "We thought we were invincible; what was one dark wizard against us and Dumbledore? Then everything happened, and we started to be torn apart. Fear and suspicion crept in, and we allowed it to rule us. And…"

Sirius snapped his mouth shut, and his face showed pain. A deep and unceasing pain. One that was mirrored on the professor's face.

"And then James and Lily died." Professor Lupin finished the thought, downing the rest of his own whisky.

Hermione was silent as the two men gathered themselves. She knew that they were both still haunted by what had happened all those years ago, it was understandable. She knew if she had been in their place… well she didn't know how she would be able to deal with Harry and Ron dying.

After a moment she spoke, but her words were little more than a whisper.

"You expect one of us to die, don't you? You think Harry might…"

Professor Lupin sat down beside her, one hand going to clasp hers. Sirius had turned away, his answer easy enough to read in his face.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But there will be deaths, and I very much doubt they will be far removed from us. We are in the thick of this war, all those in this house now. How many of us will never make it to old age? It is not pleasant to think about, but it would be foolish to believe otherwise."

In the silence that followed, Hermione found a few tears trickle down her cheeks. It wasn't that she never thought about the outcome of the war. It was something that was never far from her mind. In her deepest fears there was the image of Harry laying at Voldemort's feet, his body broken and bloody, his eyes lifeless. And there was Ron, his twisted body held aloft by wand above the Death Eaters. And there was her… her body stripped of clothing, used over and over by Voldemort's minions until her screams fell to whimpers and the life blinked out from her eyes. It was a nightmare she had experienced almost nightly since the year before.

For some time after the three simply sat quietly in the library; Sirius staring blankly ahead while Professor Lupin remained at Hermione's side, his hand still holding hers tightly. She could not figure out if their fear of the future was reassuring or worrying. Should she feel better about her own worries knowing that she was not alone, or should their certainty of death frighten her more?

In the months and years to come, Hermione would look back at that night. She would remember the dread in Sirius's eyes, and the resignation in the professor's voice. And she would wonder if they knew… if they knew that the deaths they spoke of would be their own. If maybe that night they were not trying to find comfort in preparation of Harry's death, but courage to face their own.

* * *

Author's Note: So, after years of being a fan of Harry Potter I have finally decided to write for the fandom. I have written a couple of oneshots for this pairing in the past couple of months, all the while I have been working on this.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to wait until I had the whole story finished so I could update every to twice a week, but I realized that if I did that then I wouldn't be able to post this at all until summer or fall. So I decided to go ahead and start posting.

Updates will be a while in between, mainly because I do have work through the week. But I have figured out a way to be able to work on development during that time (second break is writing time) and then I write on weekends. It has been working well for the past month and so I think I can go ahead and work like this.

Now onto the bit about the story itself. This will be a slow burn, but don't worry we will get there. Also, there will be NO Ron, Weasley, or Tonks bashing in this. NONE! And of course this is completely EWE, though the Potter children will still exist. Teddy will also play a big part, and I am already having so much fun writing him.

Chapter one will probably be out in a week or two, it is already mostly done and it will depend mostly on how much time I have to write and the weather. I live in the middle of Iowa and right now we are in the midst of this stupid extreme winter weather, and as I live in the rurals our internet will flick off just because of bad weather. Also pipes freeze.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


	2. Chapter One: A Future Disenchanted

_ The future is a convenient place for dreams - Anatole France _

At the end of it all, when the dust settled and all the dead were laid to rest, the world had to move on. This was the course of human history, wizard and muggle alike. And so, life continued. People mourned, but ultimately learned to live. Businesses rebuilt, communities healed, and the Wizarding World was once again at peace.

Worries for the soldiers remained, as they do. Molly Weasley had worried a great deal when it had come to Harry Potter. The boy was as good as her son after all. Her worries were ones that much of the wizarding world shared. What would become of the boy who had lived in danger most of his life? Would he be able to settle down into a life away from the adventure, or would he be miserable?

It was for this reason that no one batted an eyelash when he became an Auror. There he could seek the adventure and danger that he had grown accustomed to. But their world had misread the young man. For years he worked alongside Ron, catching and bringing to justice those who wished to ruin the peace they had gained. The shock came when one day Harry walked out of the Ministry, never to return.

Harry had once believed that the only life for him after the war would be as an Auror. He had longed for it in school and had believed it wholeheartedly after he was grown. But that life brought him no happiness. It was only after a gentle talk from his knowing wife that he realized something had to change. And so, just months after the birth of their first child, Harry hung up his Auror robes and donned the magenta ones of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Their world was stunned at the occurrence, but Ginny just smiled to see the way her husband glowed working alongside her brother.

With Harry gone many believed Ron would soon follow. But the young man had grown past his jealousy and any kind of perceived dependence on his friend. Ron had continued working as an Auror, going above and beyond until he headed the department. In later years he had made a name for himself as one of the best Aurors in existence. And any mention of him as "Potter's sidekick" had long ago vanished.

Where Ron had failed in the public's eye rested in his relationship with Hermione, or lack thereof. As many had suspected, the two had gotten together after the war. They were suddenly one set of the wizarding world's two sweetheart couples. But time had soon shown the two that theirs was a relationship best left as friends.

The only member of the trio that no one worried about was Hermione. She had always been the brains, the clever one, the one with everything planned out. Of course she would move on to the Ministry, making changes and their world a better place. And no one doubted that she would one day sit as Minister. But best laid plans and all…

Hermione had gone to work in the Ministry. With Kingsley as temporary, and quickly official, Minister things had gone more smoothly than before. Still, she found red tape gumming up every part of the Ministry and found herself at a loss. Her time in the Ministry had yielded little in the way of better rights for House Elves and Werewolves. And she found herself jumping from department to department trying to make a difference, only to end up disappointed.

It wasn't until sixteen years after the war that things seemed to change. She had been in her office, a small closet like space, when it happened. Before her appeared a small bird about the size of her thumb. It was a strange bird, built much like a hummingbird, but with plumage so black it seemed to absorb all light. The thing had hovered in front of her, a small strip of paper clasped in its tiny beak. The paper dropped to her desk and in the time that she looked down and back the bird had disappeared.

The strip of paper held a single word upon it; "Accepted." The moment she uttered it she was whisked away, no sign of her or the paper left behind. She had reappeared in an office that looked less like it belonged in the Ministry, and more like an old antique shop.

The office was large with dark mahogany paneling. A multitude of clocks covered most of the walls; small clocks, large, Grandfather, and not one ticked in sync with another. The resulting sound was enough to drive anyone insane. Though the woman sitting serenely at a desk seemed unphased by it. She sat comfortably in her chair simply staring at Hermione, a placid smile upon her face.

Though there were no windows in the room, a soft golden light emanated from behind the clocks. It was enough that Hermione could make out the grey robes that encased the woman. An Unspeakable. She had seen others briefly during her time at the Ministry. Most of them preferred the company of each other over other departments. But there were times that a couple would venture out. They talked to no one, but lately Hermione had gotten the feeling that they were watching her. Something she had dismissed until that very moment.

She was about to introduce herself when the small black bird appeared again. Instead of offering a paper to Hermione, it flew to rest in the middle of a flower pinned in the woman's hair. Unlike the Weasleys' bright ginger, this woman's hair was a deep bronze color liberally salted with strands of white. The bird settled down and closed its eyes. Had she been able to hear, Hermione was sure that a high-pitched snore emanated from the little creature.

So engrossed by the bird, she had failed to notice that the woman had spoken and was now walking towards her. Silently she took her hand, paying attention this time when she introduced herself. Lenora Ashby, current head of the Department of Mysteries.

That afternoon Hermione had learned that she had been watched since she had first started at the Ministry. Ashby had laid in wait, determining the right moment to bring her in. Hermione's obvious unhappiness was apparently the right time.

There was a part of Hermione that wanted to decline the offer made to her. Questions and worries ran through her head; would she be able to deal with the secrecy, would she be able to make a difference there, was it worth it? But the biggest part grasped the offer like a lifeline. Finally, she found had her place.

* * *

Hermione laughed to herself at the thoughts that had run through her head that day. Found her place? No, nothing had changed. It was four months since Ashby made her offer, and Hermione still felt unmaterial. Of course, she knew that she wasn't going to be given an assignment right off. There was training to be had. Still, she thought she would be more than just an errand girl.

It wasn't Ashby, the woman positively beamed when talking about Hermione. She was always going on about how she expected great things from the woman. No, it was her mentor, Richard Snodgrass. The man had been a peer at Hogwarts, though three years ahead. A Ravenclaw with excellent marks, that excelled in everything he did. She didn't remember him much, but then again, she spent much of her school career trying to keep her best friend from being killed.

Snodgrass hated her, she was sure of it. Though what she could have ever done to earn that hate she didn't know. But her assessment of the situation was ever more correct when he once again shot her down for a project.

She entered her office, slamming the door despite the silencing charms placed on them. Just the action made her feel a bit better. Dots of blood appeared along her bottom lip as she bit down to keep from screaming.

Everything, she had everything researched and written out. She had left nothing out, and still he turned her down. She wasn't ready, they couldn't spare the resources, she forgot to dot her I's. Every excuse he could think up he used. And now he had accused her of working for selfish means. She only wanted to gain notoriety. Hah, notoriety! They were Unspeakables for Merlin's sake, she could find the cure for death but no one would ever know.

She wiped her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood. She had thought about going above Snodgrass to Ashby, but in the end she didn't. The truth was she wanted the approval of her mentor. She wanted to show him that she was capable of doing what everyone claimed. That she was the smartest witch of her age.

The clock on her wall chimed five. Hermione would be the first to admit that she was a bit of an overachiever. Her third year at Hogwarts was enough to prove that. But after her latest encounter with Snodgrass she wanted nothing more than a glass of wine and a good book. So, she packed up her work and headed home.

Hermione lived in a small apartment hidden away in the middle of London. Most of her neighbors were muggles. The nice sort who kept to themselves and never asked questions when the quirky tenant of number 42 came home. She figured this had more to do with the woman living in number 43.

Miriam Trotter was an older witch who had taken Hermione under her wing when she moved in. She was the first tenant of the building when it had been built, and from what Hermione had gathered Miriam had already been old then. She never asked how old the woman was, but from the stories she told Hermione guessed her to be in her hundreds.

Though a bit dotty, Hermione adored Miriam. Most weekends when she wasn't working Hermione could be found at number 43 having tea and swopping stories. Though she didn't look it, Miriam had been quite the loose witch back in her day and delighted in telling Hermione about her conquests… and her many husbands which she had managed to outlive.

Reaching her apartment door, Hermione thought about asking the witch over for dinner. Though she couldn't tell her the nature of her job, she could complain about Snodgrass… or as Miriam called him, Sod-ass. But all thoughts of wine and a whine flew out of her head when she entered the apartment.

She just managed to keep in the groan when she realized that it was the second week of August and Teddy Lupin was visiting. The boy in question was sat on her couch, a variable smorgasbord laid out on the coffee table in front of him. She would have to leave work early the next day in order to get supplies. Teddy was a growing boy and would quickly eat her out of house and home.

"Actually home early, Aunt Hermione?" Teddy stuffed the leftover chicken she had been saving in his mouth. He smiled as he chewed, bits of food visible between his teeth.

Shutting the door, Hermione tossed her bag on the floor. It wasn't that she forgot that Teddy was staying with her until he returned to Hogwarts in September. It was more that she lost track of time.

"It _is_ just after five, I get off at five." Hermione kicked off her heels and sank down into the couch beside the boy. She took the bit of sandwich that Teddy handed her and started chewing.

"Yeah, but you never actually leave at five. I wasn't expecting you until midnight." Teddy gulped down a huge glass of pumpkin juice.

Looking beside her, she noticed just how much the boy had grown. She remembered when he had just been a baby cooing at her from her arms. Sometimes she missed those times, when he was small and laughed at the smallest things. And yet, that time held so much sadness. The death of Remus and Tonks had been so fresh, it had been hard to look at the boy without crying.

"I wanted to be here when you arrived," Hermione lied. She didn't want him to know she had forgotten the date. Teddy had grown up a normal boy, but he did have issues when it came to abandonment.

"Nah, you forgot." Teddy shook his head at the woman beside him. "Don't look so worried. I'm not a kid anymore. Plus, you have this new job that you are so secretive about. It is understandable that you get a bit frazzled at times."

"Merlin, when did you get to be so grown up?" Hermione curled her legs the best she could up onto the couch. She should probably get out of her work robes before she got food on them, but she was just so tired.

"When I turned sixteen." Teddy dodged when Hermione went to ruffle his hair. He hated his head being messed with.

"Oh, yes, I forgot. You are a full-grown wizard now." Hermine laughed alongside the boy, the lightheartedness of the conversation managing to lift her spirits.

The two settled down into silence, both sharing the spread of food on the coffee table. Every now and then Hermione would look at Teddy, just look at him. He had become a fixture in her life that she had not anticipated. He had always been around, he was Harry's godson after all. But for a long time Hermione was just someone that was there when Harry was; an authority figure that had little to do in his life. It wasn't until the Christmas holiday of Teddy's first year at Hogwarts that things had changed.

As had been planned, Teddy was to stay the hols with his godfather. He was going to end up at the Burrow for Christmas lunch anyway, so it was decided that he might as well just go straight to Grimmauld Place. Things sadly didn't work out. Harry and Teddy had fought, and when the boy marched away to his room he had actually floo'd to Hermione's.

It had taken a bit of coaxing, but soon enough she had gotten him to talk. The poor boy had felt neglected. Harry now had three of his own children, and while he still loved Teddy just as much his attention had been on his own. To Teddy's young mind, he had been away and so his godfather's attention should have been on him at all times. In his anger and his hurt he had fled to the first place he could think of.

Hermione had tucked him up on her couch and waited until he was asleep to floo Harry. The man had been frantic and about to call in Ron for help when her head popped out of the fire. After some explaining and scolding from Hermione, Harry soon understood and promised to visit in the morning. The two had been able to patch things up, but unfortunately Teddy was still feeling hurt. It was agreed upon that he would spend the rest of his holiday at Hermione's.

That had been the start of it. She had grown closer to the boy during that Christmas, and soon enough Teddy had seen her as a confidant. Except for certain things best left for Harry, which Hermione was more than fine with, Teddy came to her for advice. And food apparently. Since then it wasn't unusual for him to spend a week or two with Hermione. This was the first time though that she would be taking him to Hogwarts.

Hermione had the sudden urge to reach over and pull the boy into her arms and just hold him the rest of the night. She wouldn't admit it to him, she barely admitted it to herself, but she saw him as a sort of son. Back when she was younger she had thought that she would have her life all sorted out by now. Her and Ron would be married and the two of them would have a couple of children of their own. But things had not worked out. It wasn't that she was sorry that her life was the way it was, but it just wasn't what she had planned.

Teddy slumped back in his seat, belly full of all her leftovers. He burped, but quickly smacked his hand to his mouth, apologizing before Hermione could scold him. She just shook her head. His grandmother expected the boy to always mind his manners, to be a little gentleman. But Hermione had grown up around two boys, one small burp wasn't going to offend her.

"So, you going to tell me what's the matter?" Teddy screwed up his face, his short blue hair changing into the bright red of Molly Weasley. It was a habit of his, one that meant he was listening and you better start talking.

"There's nothing the matter, everything is…" Hermione snapped her mouth shut when he crossed his arms. It was unnerving when he mimicked the Weasley matriarch.

"Right, so you just left work early because nothing is wrong? And I suppose that you normally wear tissues in your hair?" He indicated the top of her head with one hand.

Hermione reached up, her fingers finding a wad of tissues tangled in her mass of curls. Oh Merlin, how long had that been there? Surely, she hadn't gone to talk to Snodgrass like that? No wonder people looked at her weird when she left.

She sighed as she flopped herself even further back into the couch. Her fingers picked and tore at the tissue, eyes not focusing on Teddy.

"You know, sometimes you are too Hufflepuff for your own good." She tossed the tattered tissues onto the table and tried her best to explain without jeopardizing her job.

"Maybe I'm just overreacting, I mean I've only been there four months I'm still new. But on the other-hand I've been there four months and I'm not doing much but fetching my supervisor his tea and scrolls. I thought when I joined that I would finally do something, make some sort of difference. But it is all the same."

Teddy hummed and twirled a lock of the long red hair. It made him look ridiculous, and she found a small smile forming on her lips.

"I thought you had some sort of project planned?" He twisted the hair a little too far and winced when a couple of strands snapped off.

"I did, I do! But he… he told me it wouldn't work. That I needed to stick to what I was good at." This was what angered her the most. Stick to what she was good at? What was she living in, some 50's American television show? He had never told her what she was good at, but considering he sent her for tea afterwards she was pretty sure what he meant.

The thing was, that Snodgrass didn't treat the other women in the department the same way. They all got the respect that she yearned for. No, there was just something about her that brought the worst out in him.

"Look, Aunt Hermione, don't give up. I know you, and I know that you can do whatever it is that you put your mind to. You just have to make your supervisor see reason." Teddy's face morphed into the closest thing to Molly she had ever seen him do. "Or if all else fails, just sic Mrs. Weasley on him."

She just looked at him and burst out laughing. He joined and soon they were collapsed on the couch in giggles. It felt good, and Hermione gave into the urge to pull him into her arms. He struggled for a moment, but soon hugged her back just as tight.

With a kiss on his head she let him go and stood up. A few tears lingered in the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away.

"Alright, it's bedtime for old people." She hopped out of the way when Teddy went to smack her arm. "I'm right in guessing you can get yourself to bed. Or do you need to me to tuck you in?"

"Haha, just go to bed old woman, before you pass out." He stuck his tongue out, but curled in on himself when Hermione managed to ruffle his hair.

"Just for that, make sure this is all cleaned up first." She laughed and headed for her room.

"Aww, come on, you said it first!"

"Night, Teddy!" She clicked her bedroom door shut just as a decorative pillow hit it. From just beyond the wood she could hear Teddy holler out his own goodnight, and she smiled.

* * *

The room was cold and damp. She could feel the fog around her nipping at her flesh, forming hoarfrost along her cheeks and lashes. She ignored it and continued on. The snow covering the ground made it hard for her to move, not even the thick boots she wore could keep out the cold.

This was the place, she was sure of it. No one had been there in centuries, even if they had she doubted that they would have lived very long. The walls around her were crumbling to the ground, and what roof still remained intact threatened to collapse under the cracking ice. Still, she had to keep moving, not much further she knew, not much further.

The deep, throaty caw of ravens followed her wherever she went. The fluttering of their wings seeming to stir up more snow. She knew they were watching her, but she couldn't care. There ahead of her it stood. A single archway.

It was familiar, she had seen its like once before. But this one was much smaller, only large enough to fit one person through.

She could hear voices the closer she got to it. They whispered in conversation, and it brushed against her from ear to ear. Soon the whispers became screaming as they felt her presence, and they called out for her to free them. But there was only one that she sought from that place.

Leaning against the archway she called out to him, calling his name like a plea. She begged him to hear her, to follow her voice. She would be his salvation, and he hers.

The ravens took flight, circling around her like she was prey. Their cries sounding more like laughter now that they were above her.

From within the archway a single hand emerged, and she grasped it in hope to pull him free. The fingers clapped around her wrist with an iron grip, and with a mighty jerk pulled her forward into darkness.

As the world around her faded away the only sound she could hear was the laughter of the ravens and her own screams.

* * *

Hermione jolted awake, her head spinning from how fast she sat up in her bed. She was covered in sweat from head to toe, the morning air chilling her as it hit the moisture. She tried to calm her breathing, but it felt as though water filled her lungs. She knew she was beginning to panic, why else would she feel as though death were moments away.

Laying a hand over her chest, she counted the heart beats she felt there. At first it was fast, fluttering like an angry butterfly. But soon her heart slowed, and with it her breathing. For a moment she sat there just trying to remember what had brought on the attack.

Her dream, it had been something to do with her dream. She tried to reach for the images still lingering behind her eyes. But with each passing breath it grew dimmer and dimmer, until all she could recall was the sound of beating wings.

With the dream beyond her she began to take in the world around her. The light streaming into her window suggested that morning had already come. A glance at her clock confirmed this. Thankfully she hadn't overslept.

The sounds of someone in her kitchen could be heard through her bedroom door. Unlike his godfather, Teddy was a naturally early riser, and whenever he stayed over he would be up even before her. Donning her robe, she left her room and was greeted with the smell of frying bacon. Quietly, she entered the kitchen.

Teddy stood in the middle of the room wearing the frilly apron Molly had gifted her and dancing to 20's music on her old radio. She smiled fondly as he danced his way over to the range. She wished that Remus and Tonks had been there to see their son. She wanted them to see how much he had grown, and what a wonderful man he was becoming.

Their deaths had unexpectedly hit Hermione hard. She hadn't been particularly close to them. But she still counted them among her friends. She oft wondered if they had allowed Remus to come with them when he offered if his death would have been prevented. Perhaps had they allowed for help back then Teddy would have his parents now.

She swallowed back the tears and guilt their memory brought. She didn't have time to dwell on it that morning. Or any morning if she could help it.

"You realize that staying here is not on the condition that you cook?" Not that she was complaining, mind. After the night she had she would have just ended up grabbing something from the cupboard to eat on the run.

Teddy gave an exaggerated shake of his hand, his toes tapping along with the music. It warmed her heart at how comfortable the boy felt around her. He was an outgoing boy, but there was a bit of his father's shyness about him. She had seen it around strangers, but when he was around those he called family it all went out the window.

"I like cooking." He gave her a winning smile, his hair turning a bright, sunny yellow. "And after yesterday, I figured you needed a break before work."

Giving into the urge, Hermione crossed the room and planted a kiss on his forehead. Not that it was easy. Over the course of his last year of school he had grown. Now he was taller than her by almost a head.

While he finished the food, Hermione went to set the small table she had placed in the corner. Her apartment wasn't very big, and she had to create a dining space by removing one of the counters. Still, she loved the little place.

The music continued to play as they tucked into their breakfast. Every now and then Teddy gave a little wiggle in his chair when a catchy song came on. Hermione almost burned her tongue downing the cup of coffee he had prepared for her. She set her cup down a little too hard when a bit of static came across the radio.

Half-formed images from her dream assaulted her. She felt cold, almost deathlike. Phantom hands grasped at her own, their icy fingers threatening to pull her in… as quickly as the feeling came it went. Looking over at Teddy she figured he must not have noticed as he was too busy stuffing eggs into his mouth. She cleared her throat, deciding that it was best to just move on.

"What will you do with yourself while I'm gone?" She didn't figure a teenage boy would like to be cooped up in an apartment all day and thought about flooing Harry to see if he might help out at the shop.

"Ms. Trotter made me promise yesterday that I would be round for tea today. I also have to finish that essay Neville set for the summer on comparing muggle and wizarding herb lore." He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. But you could see his distaste for having homework over the summer.

"Professor Longbottom, Teddy. I know he's a family friend, but while you are at Hogwarts he is your teacher." Taking a bite of her toast she thought through what she had in her library. "I have several muggle herbology books if you would like. Have you thought about adding in a few inches on Victorian flower language? There are a lot of good comparisons with their meanings and what we use the flowers for in potions."

"Don't you think that Professor Longbottom would know you helped me if I added that?"

"Believe me, he already expects it. He knows you are staying here." She tossed a piece of toast at him when he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm just giving you pointers, not doing your essay."

"Too bad."

Hermione shook her head. Sometimes she thought he spent way too much time around Ron. At least he didn't actually mean it. Teddy was a very smart boy. He could easily have a future in academics if it wasn't for the fact he loved quidditch so much.

"Just make sure you work on your essay before visiting Ms. Trotter. You know how she likes to talk, you won't get away from there until tonight."

Teddy set down his fork, his hair quickly changing to ginger. Hermione suddenly felt nervous. It was never a good thing when Teddy went Weasley two days in a row.

"Speaking of tonight. You don't plan on coming home early again do you?"

Hermione looked at him strangely, but before she could say anything he continued.

"I'm not up to anything. I'm just worried about you. You always give your best, and this thing at work… I'm just worried about how you are dealing with it." Teddy curled his fingers around Hermione's hand when she reached over to grasp it. He was too young to remember what his godfather had been like when he had worked as an Auror. But he had heard stories, and he worried that Hermione was dealing with the same thing.

"Oh, Teddy." Hermione had a hard time not tearing up at the concern in his voice. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

"I know you are, Aunt Hermione, but it doesn't stop me from worrying."

Sometimes she thought that Teddy was too grown for his own good. When she was around him and he did something sweet or voiced something so kind she often thought of his father. Remus Lupin had been the same way; kind, quiet, and insightful.

"Anyway, I was thinking last night… have you talked to his superior?" Teddy focused on his plate, knowing that his suggestion would probably not be taken well.

"Look, I know you are worried, but I'll handle it."

"But…"

"No, Teddy, you just focus on your essay and enjoying the rest of your summer and I'll worry about my job." Hermione hated to break out the Mom Voice, as Ginny called it, but she couldn't have Teddy trying to take matters into his own hands.

The war was over, and it was no time for children to have such worries. Like Harry and the others, she wanted Teddy to enjoy his youth. She wanted him to be a kid unencumbered by worry. At that moment she understood Molly Weasley better than ever. What she must have felt, seeing her children and their friends dealing with things that were difficult for adults. Right then she had an overwhelming desire to visit Molly and just hold her.

"Fine, but if you don't I'm going to tell Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward. Merlin help her.

* * *

Throughout the morning Hermione couldn't seem to shake Teddy's words. As she worked to file Snodgrass's paperwork a part of her urged her to go for a visit with Ashby. She didn't doubt that the woman would listen to her. But the biggest part of her kept her rooted to the spot.

When she had been in school she would have had little problem with going to the top. In fact, she had done just that many times. But time changed things and people. She wanted to be able to deal with this on her own.

Why couldn't Snodgrass just listen to her proposal? She slammed a file into the cabinet not even bothering to be quiet. At that moment she didn't care if the whole Ministry knew how angry she was. Of course, that was when Ashby entered the room, her small familiar fluttering about her head.

There was something about the woman that unnerved Hermione. At times she reminded her of Dumbledore, with the way she always seemed to know things. She put it down to being Head of the Department. But sometimes she wondered.

"Hermione, why don't you put down those files and join me for a cup of tea?" Ashby placed a single hand on Hermione's wrist. It wasn't threatening, but gentle and urging.

Hermione knew that although it sounded like a request, it was anything but. Ashby had a way of making her orders sound like suggestions. She figured it was a deliberate tactic in order to gain compliance with little effort. And it always worked.

She followed her boss through to her office. Since she had started in the department Ashby had added a few new items to the room. Now several tinkling chimes hung from the ceiling, swaying in a magical breeze.

Ashby waved a careless wand towards one corner, the simple table quickly adorning itself for tea for two. Hot tea steamed from the china pot, and delicate lace-like biscuits stacked themselves along a platter in the middle of the table.

For several minutes the room was filled with nothing but small talk and gossip. How the weather was, the new shop that had opened in Hogsmeade, who was sleeping with who in the department, and how they thought the Minister would handle the latest international scandal. It was all mundane and terribly boring, and not what she expected Ashby had asked her in for.

It wasn't until they were on their second platter of biscuits that the older woman finally got to the point.

"I want you to know, Hermione, that I have spoken with Snodgrass and everything has been sorted out." She gave a quick, but tense smile to the younger witch. It was obvious by her expression that the encounter had not been pleasant.

Hermione blinked. That had not been what she expected to come out of her boss's mouth. Not that she really knew what to expect, but Snodgrass had not been it.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean." Alright, that was a bit of a lie. If she had to guess, she would say that Snodgrass had complained about Hermione's constant badgering for a project. And now Ashby would calmly and gently tell her to remain in her place.

Ashby set her cup down and looked Hermione directly in the eyes.

"I did not hire you to file papers or retrieve tea and coffee. I had thought that by assigning Snodgrass to you that he would utilize your talent to the benefit of the department. But it seems that his resentment is more important to him than the welfare of his career." She grabbed the teapot and refilled Hermione's cup and her own before continuing. "You will soon be assigned to a project and be given full access to the department's resources."

For the moment Hermione ignored the bit about resentment, she could think on that later. Right then all she could do was stare at Ashby.

"Oh, do close your mouth. You can't have believed that I would allow this to continue. I knew who you were when I offered you the job. I wanted you working with me for a reason." She once again set her cup down, this time reaching across to take the other witch's hand. "You are a very clever witch, and very talented. The other departments may have ignored your potential, but I won't. You, Hermione, are an Unspeakable, not a maid."

Hermione swallowed back the tears and nodded her head. It didn't matter how Ashby had learned of her problem, all that mattered was that she was finally going to do something. When she left the office, it was with a huge smile and her chin raised.

* * *

Her bright mood soon dimmed once she was back to filing papers. Ashby had promised her great things when she had been hired but look what had actually happened. Not just that, but Hermione had a hard time believing that Snodgrass would give her a real project and not just a time waster.

It was close to the end of the day before the man in question showed up. He didn't look happy, in fact he looked as though he had been forced to eat worms for lunch. Kind of like he wanted to throw up at the sight of her.

Instead of unloading his lunch, he tossed a large file at her with a sneer.

"You should be grateful that you get that." He pointed to the file. "I expect you to actually produce results, not just hand in a verbose essay. Remember, this isn't Hogwarts."

He turned and stormed off leaving Hermione gapping at his retreating form.

The file in her hands felt heavy, heavier than it looked. Carefully, almost not believing, she opened the file. Her eyes grew wide as she read down the first page. This was not what she had expected.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope everyone is enjoying this so far as I am. Anyway, as you can see I pretty much completely ignored the epilogue and all post book stuff.

Also, I know that Snodgrass is an asshole, but I'm not making a statement about Ravenclaws. I'm a Ravenclaw myself, but sadly each house has their bad-seeds.

Chapter two may be a little longer than a week as I'm not as far into it, but I do have it developed out. So, I just have to actually find the time to write it.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


	3. Chapter 2:The Controlled Chaos of Family

Hermione sat in bed that night looking over the file Snodgrass had given her. Upon first look it appeared to be about as thick as a short novella. But within the magically expanded file held years of paperwork, decades in fact. There were notes from Unspeakables who had long since died.

When Ashby had told her that she would be assigned a project she had foolishly hoped that it would be the one she had been pushing for. She had already done the preliminary research, not to mention she had a history with time. What after her use of the time-turner in third year.

Instead Snodgrass had given her "The Project", as it was known around the Department. Most everyone tried their hand at it but failed to produce results. Some had even been driven mad by it. Whispers around the department could often be heard about the latest Unspeakable to work on it, wondering how long they would last before they gave up or went crazy, and whether this would be the one to end up dying.

This was a project that she had some history with she guessed. If one considered knowing someone that fell through it a history.

She sighed. The Archway in the Death Chamber. It was not a happy prospect to be working with it. Many theories had been postulated on what it was, why it existed, and how the living could use it to their benefit. The overall theory was that as it was a gateway, surely it must go both ways. If one could enter, one could also exit. Others believed that within it a sort of purgatory existed. And for those that entered they never truly could move on. But Harry's experience with the Resurrection Stone disproved that in Hermione's opinion.

The thing was that ever since they had lost Sirius to the veil she had formed her own theories regarding the archway. And many of them seemed inline with others from the department. Which, she figured, was as good a start as she could hope for.

She doubted when Ashby spoke to Snodgrass that this was the project she had in mind for Hermione. Not only was it higher level, but it had been deemed unsolvable years ago. Those that dared to work on it, did so out of some need for recognition or pure masochism. That was Hermione's way of thinking at least.

A part of her wondered if Snodgrass had assigned her the job with the expectation that she would fail. That part of her raised its hackles. If that was the case, then she would just have to make sure that she disappointed him… spectacularly.

Determination filled her, and she found herself unable to sleep that night. After a couple of hours tossing and turning she rose from her bed and went to make herself a cup of tea. She had a great deal of planning to do.

* * *

One week and several broken quills later found Hermione self- sequestered in her room surrounded by rolls and rolls of parchment. She had only gone into work in order to gather supplies and at least make an appearance. Her office was well lit and suited perfectly to her, but she found the confines of her own room a better work space. This had little to do with a fear of Snodgrass looming over her with an evil smile. At least that was what she told herself.

She had utilized what she could from her own, admittedly small, library. Most others would look at her funny in regards to the size of her book collection. To many she owned the equivalent of a small bookstore. But for the purpose of research it was almost worthless. And though a quick run through of the department library yielded a few promising tomes, she was still missing something.

The goal of her research was to prove the theory of a gateway correct. The problem was the how. How could she achieve her results, and where to even start? It was easy to claim that the Archway was a door to the other world. Several eyewitness reports supported this, including all those that saw Sirius fall. But she needed to connect those with tangible proof. And short of entering the Archway herself she wasn't sure how to do it.

While pondering this conundrum Hermione found herself suddenly assaulted by a pair of shoes. Her shoes in fact. She looked up from the offending pair of footwear and to the door where Teddy stood.

"What was that for?" Hermione rubbed the spot on her head where the shoes had connected, all the while glaring at the boy.

"While I'm glad that you are getting back to your old self, I don't think Molly would be happy if we missed dinner." He motioned to the watch on his wrist and then to the tattered calendar hanging on her bedroom wall.

Hermione blinked at the calendar, her eyes focusing on the little square representing that day. Under 'SAT' was written 'Dinner at the Burrow' in bright red letters. She cursed. With all the work she had been doing she had completely forgotten what day it was, and even that she had plans. And Teddy was right, Molly would have a fit if they were late. If they didn't show up at all she was bound to kill Hermione.

"Give me just a minute. I have to clear this up." She waited until Teddy gave a nod and left before practically vaulting off her bed. Quickly she secured all her notes, hiding them back within their file and locked away inside her desk. Though Ashby had no problems with anyone working from home, there were extra security measures in place to prevent their work from getting into the wrong hands.

After double checking that she had added all the correct wards to the desk, she pulled on a thin hooded jumper and slipped into the shoes Teddy had assaulted her with. She wouldn't be winning any fashion awards, but no one at the Burrow would care.

* * *

The Burrow was in a state of controlled chaos as normal. Molly worked busily in the kitchen cooking and cleaning. Various spells kept up a constant load of dishes scrubbing in the sink, vegetables peeling and chopping, and spoons stirring on the range. The entire house smelled of warmth and home. A feeling Hermione was sure she would never grow tired of.

No one was brave enough to even stick their heads into the kitchen. One look and Molly would either put you to work or send you straight back outside. Because of this everyone had found an activity to busy themselves with in the garden.

Leaning up against a table George was explaining the newest product that he and Harry had been working on. A series of teas, cocoas, and coffees. Of course, as this was a Weasley product Hermione doubted they would be benign.

Sitting on the bench beside them Ron bounced Lilly on his knee. The girl laughed as her uncle tickled at her sides in between bounces. Lilly loved all her uncles, but no one could deny that Ron was her favorite. When she had been a baby he had been the only one able to get her to stop crying.

Hermione remembered one time when Lilly had only been a few months old. She had caught a cold, and the poor little girl had been miserable. With a running nose and slight fever, Lilly had done nothing but scream and cry. Nothing that her parents did seemed to help her calm or sleep.

Ron had been on an assignment with his partner, staking out a residence believed to house one of the last Death Eaters. Harry had told her later that Ron had shown up in the middle of the night, took Lilly from Ginny, and rocked the girl to sleep before leaving again. Turned out that Lilly had shown her first real burst of magic, having called to her uncle. Even today, Lilly's magic reaches out for Ron when she is destressed. And he never fails to answer.

Sometimes Hermione regretted that her and Ron never worked out. Watching him with his niece was enough to make any witch melt. Times like this, when loneliness crept in, she had to fight the urge to contemplate trying a relationship again. Looking away from the two, she caught sight of three other laughing Weasleys.

Charlie, who had made a habit of visiting regularly after the war, was on his broom tossing a quaffle back and forth with Percy and Ginny. The three teased and joked, trying to score points by knocking each other off their brooms. So far Ginny was winning by several points.

"Sometimes 'zay are such children, no?" Fleur laughed as Charlie flew under Ginny and yanked at her leg in an underhanded move.

Motherhood had softened Fleur where the war had hardened her. Though her and Molly still butted heads at times, she had become a welcome member of the family. A little bit rounder than when she was younger, she maintained her beauty in a way that Hermione was envious of.

She sat now beside Hermione, her fingers quickly creating braids in the long hair of her youngest daughter, Anouk. Though one eye always seemed to be on Victoire who was ambling around the garden with Teddy.

"Hmm, it is nice to see though." She smiled at Fleur and nodded towards Bill who had just pocketed something George had handed him.

Fleur's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing on the matter. With one last flourish she finished Anouk's hair and sent her to go play with her brothers and sisters. Without discussion she scooted closer to Hermione and began to attack her hair. It was the same every Weasley dinner, but where Hermione had once hated it, now she looked forward to it.

It was one piece of belonging, a bit of family for a woman that had none. After the war she had thought about bringing her parents back, but the knowledge that her wand work was permanent kept her from trying. In the void that this left, the Weasleys took her in. And unexpectedly Fleur quickly became her sister.

And now Hermione sat, Fleur carefully detangling her hair and weaving it into an intricate braid. With the laughter and voices around her she knew she could easily fall asleep. The only one there that didn't look as relaxed as her seemed to be Harry.

He sat on the ground with his back against the side of the house, one leg curled in and one stretched out before him. If one didn't know him as closely as she did, they would think him merely enjoying the rare sunny day. But she did know him. She knew the line between his eyes and the set of his mouth. Something was bothering him. Ron must have noticed it too, as he had sent Lilly off to Arthur who sat entertaining his other grandchildren with stories.

When Fleur finished she thanked her and made the few steps over to where Harry sat. She reached out a foot and gently kicked him in the shin to gain his attention.

"What was that for?!" He snapped at her, but his face smoothed when he noticed her crossed arms.

"Come on, let's go for a walk." Hermione nodded behind her and away from the rest of the family. She could see that he planned to refuse.

Even after all these years he still thought he had to deal with things on his own. Though before Harry could get anything out Ron appeared at her side. Years of working as an Auror had changed his body. And though he wasn't the most muscular man she had ever seen, he now had a much thicker build than either of them.

Without giving him a chance to refuse, Ron leaned down and grasped at Harry. With a great heave he lifted the other man onto his feet. Harry glared at him but followed as they took off away from the house.

It had been a long time since it had just been the three of them. Sure, they still hung out all the time, but there was always someone else there. For the first time in probably a year or so the three were alone.

"Alright, give it up Harry. What's the matter?" Hermione had waited until they were well out of sight of the Burrow before talking. Something that the other two seemed to have silently agreed upon.

Harry ruffled his hair before catching himself and sticking his hands into his pockets.

"Ginny and I thought it was time to finally clean out the attic. We thought I could use it as an office. It is well away from the kids' reach that I would be able to keep test products there without worry." He swallowed thickly but walked a bit further on.

After taking over care of Grimmauld Place, Harry and Ginny had practically gutted the house. It had been the only way to get rid of Mrs. Black and the Black tapestry. The only place that he had refused to touch was the attic.

"I don't know what I expected to find there really. It was mostly just Buckbeak's old nest and a lot of dust." He removed one of his hands and stuck it in the hair at the back of his head. "I did find a box though."

Harry stopped walking. They had made it to the top of a small hill, and he turned back towards the Burrow and sat down in the grass. Both Hermione and Ron followed suit.

"Sirius must have collected a bunch of books from the library and put up there. As far as I can tell none of them are dark. But there are a fair few that should not be seen by young eyes." He folded his legs up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees.

"Alright, do you want me to take a look at them?" Ron's voice was soft, but you could tell he was quickly entering Auror mode.

"No, like I said none of them are dangerous. No, it is just…" Harry looked up to the sky. "…there were several journals in there. Sirius's journals. Many of the earliest ones are incomprehensible. Just a lot of babblings about Dementors and cold. They are scary to read. I never realized just how unhinged he had actually been back then."

"It is not surprising. He spent twelve years in prison with the world thinking he murdered his best friends." Hermione leaned over and gathered Harry to her side. It had been awhile since Harry had talked about Sirius like this.

"More than that, he spent twelve years knowing who the real murderer was and that he was out in the world free. I know I would go a bit barmy if it had been me." Ron joined Hermione, gathering Harry from the opposite side.

"I know, but the thing is the journals didn't get much better. For awhile they did, he wrote about how proud of me he was and how much he knew my mum and dad would love the wizard I had become. But then it got worse again. The journals became angry and you would think he had still been locked up."

Hermione looked over to Ron and saw the same grim face looking back at her. The fact of the matter was he had been locked up. Sure, it had been for his own good. He had still been a wanted man, had he been out in the world and seen he could have been arrested again. Even so, to be locked away in a house that represented hatred and horror to the man. It was a wonder he hadn't lost his mind completely. No. 12 Grimmauld Place had almost done what the Dementors hadn't been able to.

Laughter echoed up from the Burrow and Harry sighed. It seemed like getting this off his chest had done little to raise his spirits.

"I read the things he wrote and I can't help but feel guilty. He should be here now, you know? He should have been at my wedding, and there to meet each of my children. He should be free to just live." He leaned his head against Hermione's shoulder. "I miss him sometimes. I… I think I miss him even more than my parents. Does that make me a bad person?"

Hermione lifted up his face so she could look him directly in the eyes. It had been a while since she had seen this Harry, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Listen to me, Harry. You are not a bad person just because you miss someone. You actually got to know Sirius, to love him, and there is nothing wrong in missing that connection. And I doubt your parents would be upset to know that you loved their friend, the man they chose to be your godfather."

Ron nodded his head in agreement before standing up and dusting himself off.

"Hermione's right, Harry. No one is going to blame you for missing someone important in your life. Now, let's get back to the house. Mum's probably got dinner done by now."

Both Hermione and Harry laughed. No matter how much time went by, some things just never changed.

* * *

Family dinners at the Burrow were always an experience. Just as chaotic as the home they lived in, the Weasleys bustled around the kitchen table setting the plates and covering all available space with bowls of food. They reminded one of bees, buzzing around the hive in their own little dance. And like those bees they quickly finished off the table and sat down with an excited buzz.

As spoons clanked against mis-matched china, plopping various dishes of potatoes, gravy, and meats, a clamor of voices rose to thank Molly. Unlike Ron's enthusiastic mash-filled "…ank-oo, ..um," Hermione swallowed down her bite of roast before speaking.

The entire table was packed shoulder to shoulder with people. All but a solitary chair. For the last sixteen years that chair had remained empty, but the setting in front of it placed as though the occupant had simply stepped out of the room.

In years past the sight of the empty chair caused a round of tears. But today no one broke down. It had become less of a symbol of what was lost, and instead a tribute to the love the family still held for Fred. Even so, Hermione could see how George would occasionally turn to it as though expecting Fred to be there ready with a joke.

Talk continued around the table. Laughter rose and fell, whispers echoed across the room, and everyone expressed their love of the food. For Hermione this was home, and something to be forever grateful for.

"So, Hermione, Teddy tells me that you have finally been given a project at work." Molly spoke over the clamoring voices at the table, all the while reaching over to wipe off a bit of gravy dripping off James' chin.

"Ah, yes. My supervisor thought that it was time." Hermione shot Teddy a look, to which he lowered his head in guilt. It wasn't that she planned on keeping it a secret from anyone, but because of the nature of her job it was hard to share details.

"Overdue, I would say. Our Hermione is the smartest witch of her age." Arthur gave her a huge smile.

The years had aged him even more. His hair, already thinning when she had first met him, was all but gone. Lines filled the corners of his eyes and lips, and between his brows. But when he smiled he looked ageless. This was true as well for Molly, who had grown to smile more and more in the passing years. Ginny often attributed it to the children, 'keeps you young, you see.'

"I'm not sure that is true anymore. I'm not sure that was ever true." In her time at Hogwarts she had learned about intelligence, and what made one smart. Was it the ability to take in knowledge? If so, sure one could easily call her smart. But befriending Luna had taught her something altogether different.

"Father is correct. You should have been appointed as Minister by now. I offered…" Percy was cut off when Bill reached over to clamp a hand over his mouth. Percy was still insufferable, even with all the growth he had done after the war.

"Unfortunatly, even with Voldemort dead the Ministry is still dealing with corruption. It went so deep within our world that just the death of one dark wizard isn't likely to fix it. Even so, someone should have recognized Hermione's talent long before now." Arthur had often reiterated his thoughts on the Ministry post-war. Thoughts that most agreed with.

Molly, clearly not wanting to go down the war discussion rabbit-hole, cut off her husband before he could say anything else.

"So, Dear, anything you can tell us about your project?"

Hermione sat silent a moment. She knew she wouldn't be able to get away with saying nothing, but she really couldn't say that she was to be working with the archway either. Not just because of secrecy, but with the way that Harry was that night she didn't think bringing up his dead godfather was a good idea.

"Mind you, I can't really tell you much. Nothing at all really." She chewed on a bit of carrot as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I guess what I can say is that it is a pretty high-level project that has been going on for years." There, that would have to do.

"They must have a lot of faith in you to give you high-level for your first project."

Apparently, that wouldn't do, as Charlie piped up from the end of the table. She should have taken a moment to gather her thoughts before she spoke, because the next words out of her mouth was not something she planned on telling them.

"Actually, I think Snodgrass expects me to fail." Comically, Hermione slapped her hand to her mouth and groaned.

George's head shot up from where he had been entertaining young Albus, a quizzical yet disgusted look on his face.

"Richard Snodgrass? You work for that git?" George ducked when Molly tossed a roll at him since he was too far for her to reach. He ignored her outcry of 'watch your mouth' and kept his attention on Hermione.

"Well, he's my supervisor but only because our boss assigned him to me." And that was something that she would like to take up with Ashby. Out of all the Unspeakables in the department, why Snodgrass? "You know him?"

"I haven't seen him since Hogwarts. He was never very nice even back then. A little too full of himself. All the praise for how clever and smart he was inflated his head so much it was a wonder he could fit through the doors. Of course, you kind of took care of that when you arrived. Stole his crown and all." George laughed, no one had ever liked Snodgrass. Except the teachers, and Hermione's arrival showed how fickle they could be.

Everyone was quiet for a moment as Hermione sat there, her face turning redder and redder as she realized what George had said.

"You mean that this whole thing was because of his stupid bruised ego?!" Idiotic men! She had spent four months fetching him tea just to make him feel better about himself. She would kill him.

"Probably, yes." He shrugged, though it was easy to see he knew how much this bothered her.

For the rest of the dinner George spent telling stories of him and Fred and how they had pranked Snodgrass. He had made an enemy of the twins when he had snitched on them in their first year. And no one got away unscathed when that happened.

Hearing how many ways Snodgrass had suffered at the twins' hands made Hermione feel better. Which she was sure had been George's intention.

* * *

After sundown Hermione could be found outside the house. The air had become rather cool with an approaching thunderstorm, so she had stolen the knitted throw from the couch and had it wrapped around her shoulders.

She gazed up at the sky, her eyes tracing the myriad of stars before her. Lightening in the distance created flashes of light across the dark expanse like overlarge fireflies. Behind her she could hear someone approaching, but any worry she had was gone the moment she caught a glimpse of Teddy's bright hair.

"I'm sorry for telling Mrs. Weasley about your project." Teddy looked down at his feet, hands firmly into his pockets.

She knew it hadn't been a malicious thing on his part. Sometimes his excitement just got the better of him. And really, she adored him for it. Opening the throw, she wrapped one arm around the boy to bring him to her side.

"It's alright, they would have found out anyway."

From inside the house Ron screamed and vowed he would kill George. Both Hermione and Teddy laughed. George had obviously given his brother a practical demonstration of his and Harry's new product.

Their laughter dying down to nothing, the two sat down in the grass against the house wall. They remained in silence just watching the incoming storm while huddled in the blanket.

Hermione's mind was as active as the lightening, giving her flashes of the earlier conversation with Harry. Maybe there was a way to produce results on her project and help her friend at the same time.

* * *

Hermione became easily restless when working on a project. Once she had an idea she had to run with it, research it, and simply put… she had to work. So, after the revelation the night before she knew she would have to make a much more thorough search of the department library than she had before.

Her goal was no longer to just prove the gateway theory, but to produce tangible results that not even Snodgrass could deny. Most of the night she had weighed the pros and cons of what she was about to attempt. Could she really play God in this manner? Was it right to? In the end Hermione swept all that aside. It was doubtless she wasn't the first one to attempt it, but she planned to be the first one to actually do it.

A stack of books reaching the top of her head floated at her side. Titles from known scholarly witches and wizards adorned many spines, while others remained blank. She had gathered books dealing with death traditions, rituals, and beliefs. But she had yet to find one on raising the dead that did not deal with the inferi or like creatures. And that was not what she wanted at all.

Several hours into her search she found her concentration broken by the caw of a bird. At the sound her hand stilled, fingers just brushing against the spine of a book. Her heart beat faster and it seemed as though the room had grown colder.

The incessant throaty caw of a raven echoed around her. She could hear it right next to her ear, but when she turned no bird was to be found. In a moment two other ravens joined in. Their cawing like laughter and crying. And though Hermione could almost feel their wings brush against her flesh, no bird was there.

As quickly as the sound came, it left. Brushing it off as her imagination and need for sleep, she gathered up her books and left.

* * *

It was just after midnight when Hermione finally returned home. All thoughts of the library and ravens out of her head as she tried to be quiet. Teddy would most likely be asleep and she had no desire to wake him.

Silently she tip-toed to her room and changed. It was nice to be wrapped up in her warm pajamas. She had become chilled earlier and nothing she had done would warm her up.

A smile spread across her face when she went back into the main room. A plate filled with food sat on her coffee table, a small note beside it telling her to eat every bite. That boy knew her too well. Ignoring the plate for the moment, she went to Teddy's room.

Carefully she opened the door to find Teddy sprawled across his bed still in his clothes. She shook her head and went to work. It looked as though the boy had fallen asleep reading, but when Hermione picked up the fallen book it was to find a photo album filled with pictures of his parents.

She remembered when she was younger Harry had one similar. But Teddy had something that Harry had very little of. He had people surrounding him that knew his parents and worked to keep them alive in his mind and his heart.

She set the album on the bedside table, the book open to a page with a single picture. It had been taken long before Lupin and Tonks had married. In it Remus Lupin stood beside the fireplace in the library of number 12, a small black book in one hand. Beside him was a smiling Sirius. But there was something off about that smile. It wasn't happy, it was dark and filled with pain and fear.

She remembered that picture. It had been taken not long after her and Ron were whisked away to Grimmauld Place. It had been evening and everyone had been tired from cleaning all day. Sirius had decided on telling stories and many of them had gathered in the library to listen. She had been enthralled then, not just with Sirius' stories, but with Lupin's. At one-point Ginny had produced a camera and snapped a picture of the two older men.

Looking at it now, Hermione shook her head. Back then they had been old, but they couldn't have been much more than the age she was now. Too young to die. Her fingers traced the lines of first Sirius' face and then Lupin's. They were way too young.

She swallowed back a lump in her throat and grabbed a blanket from a chair. She placed it over Teddy and gave him a kiss upon his forehead, thankful that Teddy would never have to experience such horror in his life.

* * *

Author's Note: Alright, a week later than I really wanted to post it, but between work and life….

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**


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